


Heart of Leather

by Balthuza



Category: Shards of the Sun
Genre: Both of them, M/M, and well failing, but they're trying?, they're idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9519038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balthuza/pseuds/Balthuza
Summary: Every time the amulets on Grifaris’ neck catch the light he loses focus and needs a second to go back to the topic.





	

The Keeper keeps on talking, getting lost in his own speech, trying to subtly raise the issue and getting frustrated at himself when it doesn’t work. Every time the amulets on Grifaris’ neck catch the light (and at this point he starts to wonder whether it's an accident or Home is making a point there) he loses focus and needs a second to go back to the topic. Grifaris looks more and more confused and when finally the Keeper snaps and kisses him, a gentle press of lips, ending before it began, it’s hard to say which one of them is more surprised. 

 

Grifaris lifts a hand to his mouth, his eyes round with wonder and a blush darkening his skin, and gives the Keeper a shy smile. The Keeper wonders whether he can feel through the amulet how fast his heart beat is, but is too afraid to ask. 

 

He wakes up in the middle of the night, wondering if maybe this was just a dream. The room is empty and quiet and the Keeper snorts to himself, somehow bitterly. How cruel he is to himself, his own mind painting pictures of first kisses, soft lips and coy smiles. After all, who is he to deserve any of that.

 

When he is woken up later by knocking on doors, strong, but unsure, he is awake and out of bed in an instant. When he throws the door open, worried, prepared for the slight heartbreak of another person leaving, he does not expect Grifaris here. He looks a bit bashful and apologetic, seeing the edge of worry in the Keeper’s movements. 

 

‘Here,’ he says, reaching out a hand. On top of it there is a piece of leather, shaped into, what the Keeper assumes, is a snowflake or maybe a flower. The token is a bit lopsided and evidently done without much practice, by rough hands used to practical work, rather than ornaments. Urged by Grifaris’ look, the Keeper gently picks up the gifs, even more gently closes his hand around it, and deciding to take the risk, once again bends down to Grifaris’ lips.  This time the half-orc beats him to it and pulls him the rest of the way by his shirt.


End file.
